Inescapable
by Ghostly Green
Summary: 3 years after the war took place (Voldemort being the victor), Draco, now 22, is absolutely bored with his life and decides to visit the rumored mad psychic of St. Mungo's Hospital. One-Shot!


A/N: Quite sad, really. This story was only meant to be one chapter, so... Hope you enjoy, strange as it is!

Disclaimer: Um.. Still not mine.

It had been three years since the Dark Lord had won the war, and everything was different now that he reigned. The muggles had been killed off, every last one of them, as well as most of, if not all, the Mudbloods. The half-bloods were dead, half-bloods like Harry Potter, and the blood-traitors were dead as well. Draco Malfoy had nothing to do with any of this, as he stayed neutral throughout the war. He found following _anyone_ to be a stupid idea, as the only person anyone should follow should be oneself. Dumbledore, though not dead, had vanished completely, as well as several others from the Light side. Draco had nearly lost hope. With no idea as what to do with himself or his future, he laid low, ignoring the Dark Lord's calls to join him. Openly rejecting was a ridiculous idea--unless, of course, he wished for his own death. But Draco was bored and unsure of what to do about it. In fact, he had no idea what to do with himself at all. He wasn't particularly _living_ and it was maddening.

Of course, it was until he heard the rumors.

It was said that a mad psychic lived in St. Mungo's Hospital--one that was no fraud. Just by looking at you or touching you, she could tell you your future, your thoughts--anything you did or didn't ask of her--to you. The only thing was that she was quite mad and babbled and mumbled a lot, so it was difficult to get her to tell you much of anything. Draco knew that something was in store for him the moment he heard of her--he had to see her. He had to know his future, had to know if he'd ever escape this pathetic excuse for a life. So to her he went, unaware of the events that would change his life for forever.

"Excuse me," Draco said to a woman seated at the front desk. "May I see the--er--psychic? I know it sounds ridiculous, but..." The woman looked up at him skeptically but nodded.

"Third floor, room 194. Don't stay too long, unless you want to come out shaking and crying like the last lad that was here." Draco gulped, but nodded, and walked up the staircase to the third floor. The third floor was a blinding white, and Draco nearly got a headache just looking at it. Each door opened to a room where a person was staring dismally at the ceiling or crying about one thing or another, but Draco tried not to notice. 189, 190, 191... Finally, Draco stopped in front of room 194. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. Inside was a small but nice looking room. To the left of him was a small bathroom, and in front of him was a conjoined living room and bedroom. The walls were a pale yellow, and the bed was a small cot. There was a table in the center of the room, a table suited for a child. Sitting at the table was a vaguely familiar looking girl who was staring at a bruise on her pale arm and started poking it. Her brown hair fell limply down her back in nearly damaged curls, her dark brown eyes were large and bright looking, and she seemed to be his age, but he wasn't sure.

"Are you going to just stand in the hallway? It's much warmer in here. It's a bit smelly out there too, with lots of people who'll kill you if they have the chance. Them with their sharp needles and magic wands..." She began mumbling to herself when Draco stepped in, closed the door, and cleared his throat. "Yes, you want a reading. They all want me to tell them what's in store..." Draco looked at her curiously... even her voice seemed familiar.

"What is your name?" He asked. She looked up at him, her face quite puzzled.

"I don't remember. It's something like..." She started moving her fingers around in front of her face, looking determined. "I think it starts with a 'C'." Draco was staring at her, bewildered now. "'Carol'... no, 'Christine'. Carol, Christine--Granger!" Her eyes lit up excitedly. "Hermione Granger! That's my name! And they can't take it away from me, no they won't... it's mine, not theirs, they can't have it... I won't let him take it away from me..." She began muttering quickly to herself as Draco just stared, utterly shocked. Hermione Granger? It couldn't be! The brightest witch of their year was sitting in front of him, babbling like some... well, she was _insane_. How could this have happened?

"Hermione Granger..." He said softly. She tilted her head to the side.

"Do you know her? I've heard she was quite the brain."

"But I thought you just said--"

"My name is Carol. No, Christine. Carol, Christine--Granger! Hermione Granger! That's my name!" She said once again, sounding triumphant.

"Do you remember who I am?" Draco asked, trying to stay calm. She balled her hands into fists and began shaking them, as well as her feet. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. After half a minute of this, she opened her eyes and stopped shaking.

"No." She said simply. Quite suddenly, she began to mutter again. "Stupid mudblood... keep that bushy head down, Granger!" A strange feeling gripped Draco just then--was it guilt? Or pity? Whatever it was, it was new to Draco, and it made him nervous. "Do you want to sit down? Let me see your hand." Draco took a step backwards, towards the door. She was really staring to frighten him. She smiled placidly. "Oh come now, I'm not looking for dirt on your hands! Dirty hands... dirty hands... hands that are--no. Looking into your future. Unless... you're afraid that that's dirty too? There's dirt in everyone's past and future... you just have to know what's water and ice." Draco was steadily becoming edgier and more confused. Her voice was a little more high-pitched than he'd remembered it to be, and it sounded like a child was talking to him. "I see so much anger... confusion... not to mention all of the things flying around your head. Stars, lots of pretty stars... some fish, yes quite a few, my oh my... not to mention the pretty dagger, but everyone has the dagger."

"Excuse me, but what exactly are you talking about?" Draco pushed the hair out of his eyes and stared at her.

"You love your image and your fame. But you're terrified. They're all swirling around you..." She started to look up at the ceiling, giving it an odd smile, before looking at the wall next to him. "But like the fish, you're on dry land and you're suffocating. Whatever's happening in your life... it's killing you. Breathe."

"And the--er--dagger?" He asked tentatively. She began to giggle madly and covered her nose and mouth with one hand.

"Everyone has one of those! Even I do... it's an angry dagger. But yours has magic sparks, such pretty and sad sparks!" She began laughing with glee and the sight truly disturbed Draco.

"Why does everyone have a dagger? What does it represent?" She stared at him, the laughter gone from her eyes.

"Death. Everyone dies." She said hollowly. Her dull eyes were haunting and almost cold, but utterly empty.

"Do you know how I'll--"

"You'll die an old man, screaming in your bed." A muscle in her cheek twitched, and she slapped it, looking annoyed. "Don't do that!" She scolded her hands. "It's not polite!"

"Do you know why I'll be screaming?"

"Of course. Magic. Lots of it. In fact, you really won't be an old man... you'll be... this many." She held up ten fingers, balled her hands into fists, opened them again, and then held out three fingers.

"I'll be 23, but an old man?" Draco looked at her skeptically. "That's impossible! That's only a year from now and... Die an old man, screaming in my bed? But it'll be in one year?"

"I told you, it's MAGIC that does it. Magic does EVERYTHING!" She stood up and started kicking her wall, tugging at her hair. "It's not fair!" She wailed. "It's so stupid to believe that it is pretty! But it's all brown and dead-looking and..." She stopped and stared at the wall. "My name is... I don't remember. It's something like..." She wiggled her fingers around, making some strange sign. "It starts with a 'C'. Carol. No, Christine. Carol, Christine--Granger! Hermione Granger! That's my name!" She said proudly. Her face darkened. "And they can't take it from me, it's all mine, yes it is. He wants to take it, he took everything, yes, but not my name. It's all mine..." She began muttering to herself, wringing her hands and tapping her right foot.

"I'll--er--go now." Draco said quietly and stood up to leave. She walked right in front of him and stared up at him, looking dead.

"Please kill me." She said softly.

"What?" He exclaimed.

"If you don't do it, the nurses will. They're always trying to kill me, I swear they are. With their needles and nasty teeth and cruel, such cruel faces. I want to die by magic, not by a needle." She grabbed his arm and twisted it painfully. He yelped and she smiled. "Kill me, I've made you mad, I know I have."

"I'm not angry, just let me go!" She twisted more and he grunted in pain before wrenching his arm from her grasp.

"You don't understand! They're all dead! All of the muggles--even her _parents_ are dead! Scar-face is dead! Fire-head is dead! They haunt so many dreams and they keep on killing me... Why are you crying?" A tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away as another fell. "Stop crying, it's stupid! Just like you! Smart? I'll show you smart!" She argued with herself. She slapped herself again before crumpling to the ground, miserable. "I told you not to do that!" She cried, grabbing a large book off of the floor. She dropped it onto the hand that had slapped her only seconds before and howled with pain. Grabbing it again, she began slamming it over and over onto the hand, screaming and scolding at the same time. "Don't do that ever again! It's so impolite!" Draco grabbed the book from her and she gave a loud cry. "Give it back! It needs punishing!" He put it on a high shelf where she couldn't reach, and she quieted down. She sat down in one of her chairs and began to stare mournfully at the wall.

"Please, take care of yourself." He said quietly. "I can't believe this happened to you... You were so smart, so alive at school. I don't understand why or how this happened, and I'm sorry I can't change it." He turned from her and walked towards the door. Halfway out, he heard her voice quietly call behind him.

"Red eyes is going to kill you, whether you join him or not. He'll test it on you." Draco stopped moving and turned his head to the side.

"Then I suppose I'll have to run away fast, won't I?"

"I hope it doesn't hurt too long..." She nearly whispered.

"It won't." He tossed his head and walked out of the door. Draco walked down the staircase and took two steps past the receptionist before she stopped him.

"Sad, isn't it?" She said quietly. He sighed and wiped a tear from his cheek.

"It's hard to believe it's her. I may have hated her, but I would never wish that on her." The woman sighed.

"It's hard to believe that I shared a dorm with her at school... And now..." Draco squinted his eyes a little, looking at her.

"Patil?" He asked. She nodded.

"I didn't always like her, but someone that brilliant... their mind shouldn't be wasted. No single person's mind should be wasted."

"What happened to her?"

"She witnessed her best friends and her parents die. She was captured on the battlefield and tortured until... well, she was like this."

"Why doesn't she remember her name? Why does she keep saying that people want to take her name from her?" She winced and looked away.

"I shouldn't have told you as much as I have; this is priviledged information." She turned away, but not before he saw the tears fall from her eyes. Draco turned, his robes billowing out from behind him, and left.

----

5 months later, the mad psychic on the third floor in room 194 passed away from the sedatives and shots she was given almost daily. It was accidental, of course.

There was no funeral.

----

2 months after Draco Malfoy's 23rd birthday, Lord Voldemort had finally caught up to him. He had been spending months creating a new spell to torture victims with--and provide him with youth. He tested this theory on Draco, draining the life from him with this new spell. It hurt for seconds before Draco stopped screaming, dead in his bed. Red Eyes was satisfied.

FIN.


End file.
